


Dear Marius Pontmercy

by kjack89



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dear Evan Hansen Fusion, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Developing Relationship, F/M, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Unrequited
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 10:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10555138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/kjack89
Summary: Dear Evan Hansen AU.All his life Marius Pontmercy has felt invisible.  To his peers, to the girl he loves, sometimes even to his own grandfather.  But that was before he wrote the letter - that led to the incident- that started the lie - that ignited a movement - that inspired a community - and changed Marius's status from the ultimate outsider into the somebody everyone wants to know.  But how long can Marius keep his secret?  And at what price?





	

**Author's Note:**

> The Dear Evan Hansen AU that no one wanted but me. Purely and completely self-indulgent, because I can. Obviously spoilers for Dear Evan Hansen if you haven't seen it. Plot summary is directly lifted from the musical, with all credit where credit's due.
> 
> Currently this is looking like it’ll be four parts. The goal is to update once a week but idk if that’ll actually happen.
> 
> Usual disclaimer applies. Please be kind and tip your fanfic writers in the form of comments and/or kudos!

“Dear Marius Pontmercy – Today is going to be an amazing day, and here’s why: because today, all you have to do is just be yourself.”

Marius snorted. “Yeah, right.”

He let his hands slip off the keyboard of his laptop, cradling his left arm in his lap, the bulky cast somehow a strange comfort. _Be yourself_ – was there ever a more worthless piece of advice? How could Marius, weird, awkward Marius whose hands sweat too much, especially when he thought of actually making conversation with Cosette, the love of his life who didn’t even know he existed, or worse, Enjolras, who—

Well, who was harder to explain.

If he wanted to have any chance of talking to Cosette, or to Enjolras, he couldn’t just be himself. He would also need to be confident, and interesting, and easy to talk to and all of things that he wasn’t. Which, at the end of the day, sort of defeated the purpose of being himself.

He sighed and looked back down at the mostly empty document on his computer, and lifted his hand to press and hold the backspace button, watching his worthless words disappear. “So did you just decide not to eat last night?”

Marius looked up guiltily at his grandfather, who was smiling at him. “I wasn’t hungry,” Marius told him.

Gillenormand sighed and slowly sat down on the edge of Marius’s bed. “You’re a senior in high school,” he said, an edge of impatience in his voice. “You need to be able to order dinner for yourself when I’m at work.” When Marius didn’t say anything, Gillenormand nudged him and winked. “You know, supposedly you can order dinner from one of those newfangled devices, so that you don’t even have to talk to anyone on the phone. I know how kids your age hate talking on the phone.”

Closing his eyes and counting to ten, Marius considered telling his grandfather that online ordering didn’t solve anything, that you still had to talk to the delivery person when they came to the door, but he decided against it. “I know.”

“This is what you’re supposed to be working on,” Gillenormand reminded him. “Dr. Mabeuf wants you to work on talking to people, on actually engaging in conversation.”

Another count to ten, and Marius forced a smile onto his face. “You’re right,” he said. “I’m going to be a lot better.”

Gillenormand nodded approvingly. “I know you are. That’s why I made an appointment for you with Dr. Mabeuf this afternoon.” He stood as Marius looked up at him, something like horror flickering in his eyes. “I hope that you’ve been writing those letters he assigned you.” Gillenormand snorted and shook his head. “Of course, I don’t see what good writing yourself a pep talk will do – Dear Marius Pontmercy, this is going to be a good day and here’s why, etc. Seems like hogwash to me, but I suppose that’s why I’m a lawyer, not a doctor.” He shook his head again and looked at Marius. “Anyway, have you been doing those?”

“Yeah,” Marius said, his voice small. “I, uh, I started writing one. I’ll finish it at school.”

“Good,” Gillenormand said, his tone turning brisk. “Because I don’t want another year of you sitting at home on your computer every Friday night telling me you have no friends.”

Marius looked away. “Neither do I,” he muttered.

Gillenormand didn’t seem to notice Marius’s tone. “Why don’t you go around today and ask the other kids to sign your cast?” he suggested. “That would be a perfect icebreaker, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Marius said, with no enthusiasm whatsoever. “Perfect.”

* * *

Marius bounced up and down on the balls of his feet, nervously clicking the cap of his sharpie over and over as he lurked outside the entrance to the school, waiting to see someone, anyone he knew so that he could ask them to sign his cast and get his grandfather off his back. He saw Feuilly and thought about waving him over, but whether he wanted to or not, Feuilly saw him and made a beeline over to him. “Hey! How was your summer?” Feuilly asked, barreling forward before Marius could answer. “Mine was productive. I did three internships and ninety hours of community service.” Marius opened his mouth to respond but again Feuilly did not let him. “I know, I know,” he sighed. “But I gotta have all this for my college apps, you know?”

“Um, yeah,” Marius said, and taking advantage of the time he had to get a word in edgewise, blurted, “Do you maybe want to sign my cast?”

Feuilly blinked and looked down at Marius’s tentatively outstretched arm. “Oh my god, what happened?” he asked.

Marius wasn’t honestly prepared for someone to ask, and it took him a moment to reply. “Oh, um, well, I broke it. I was climbing a tree, and—”

“Oh, really?” Feuilly said, mildly interested. “The old man who lives down the hall from me broke his hip getting into the bathtub in July. That must’ve been the beginning of the end, because then he died.” Marius stared at Feuilly in horror, and Feuilly just smiled and cheerfully told him, “Well, happy First Day!” before disappearing into school.

Marius heard someone laughing and turned to see Éponine leaning against the wall, a cigarette dangling from her mouth. “What?” Marius asked, a little defensively.

“Nothing,” Éponine said, stabbing her cigarette out against the wall. “I was just wondering, is it weird to be the first person in history to break their arm from jerking off too much, or…?”

Marius turned bright red and stammered, “I wasn’t – that wasn’t – I wasn’t doing that!”

Éponine’s smirk widened. “Paint me a picture of it – you’re in the bedroom, you’ve got Cosette’s Instagram up on your phone, and—”

“That’s not what happened!” Marius insisted, his face still the color of a tomato. “I was climbing a tree, and I fell, ok?”

Éponine examined him critically for a long moment. “I’d stick with the jerking off story if I were you,” she recommended. “It would be the most interesting thing about you.”

Marius gritted his teeth before huffing a sigh and asking, “Do you want to sign my cast?”

Éponine raised an eyebrow at him. “Why are you asking me?”

“Well, I just thought, because, um, we’re friends…”

“Your father knew my father. At the most, that makes us _family friends_ , which is a whole different thing, and you know it.” She tossed her dark hair and glared at the school as the bell rang. “Anyway, like I said. Stick with the jerking off story. And stop asking people to sign your cast. We’re not in elementary school anymore.”

With that, she headed inside, and Marius slowly slid the sharpie back into his pocket, took a deep breath, and headed inside.

So much for today being a good day.

* * *

Marius kept his head down as he headed into his first class, AP World History, though he looked up as he accidentally ran into someone. “Oh my god, I’m so—” He broke off when he saw that it was Cosette. “Sorry,” he finished, his voice coming out as a squeak.

Cosette smiled distractedly at him, not pausing her conversation with Musichetta, and Marius ducked his head again and brushed past them. He faltered slightly when he saw Enjolras sitting at the front of the room, flanked as always by Combeferre and Courfeyrac. Marius made a noise that might have charitably sounded close to the word ‘hi’, and before he could flee from the situation, Enjolras looked up at him and blinked. “Marius, right?” he asked.

Marius’s mouth opened and closed twice before he managed, “Marius.”

Enjolras stared at him. “That’s your name, right?”

“Yes, it is, it’s Marius, sorry,” Marius blurted all in one breath, which, if anything, made Enjolras stare at him even more, which, of course, caused Marius to blush even deeper and his palms to start sweating worse than normal.

“Why are you sorry?” Combeferre asked mildly, propping his chin on his hand and looking at Marius as if he was a mildly interesting insect.

Marius looked wildly from Enjolras to Combeferre and made a minute movement of his shoulders that might have been a shrug. “Well, because, he said Marius and then I repeated it, and it’s just so annoying when people so that, so I’m sorry because I don’t want to be annoying and I know I’m annoying, and—”

He broke off because now Enjolras and Combeferre were both staring at him like he’d grown another head, and Courfeyrac was looking at him like he was a drowning puppy, which frankly, he felt a bit like. Enjolras cleared his throat. “Ok, well, I—” he started, at the exact moment Marius blurted, “Do you want to sign my cast?”

“What?” Enjolras asked.

Marius quickly decided to abandon ship. “I didn’t say anything,” he said, pushing past Enjolras to collapse into a seat at the back of the class where, mercifully, Enjolras, Combeferre and Courfeyrac couldn’t see him. “Oh my god,” he muttered, putting his head down on his desk and praying for death to find him.

“So that was rough,” someone said, a barely hidden laugh in his voice, and Marius opened one eye to see Grantaire sitting next to him, doodling in the margins of his textbook. “Don’t worry, I’ve seen worse crash and burn attempts at talking to Enjolras, though normally it’s from people trying to hit on him, and I definitely don’t think that’s your angle.” Grantaire paused in his doodle and glanced over at him. “So what is your angle?”

For a moment, Marius considered telling him, because if there was one person on the planet who might understand, it would be Grantaire. Grantaire, the class clown, the fuck-up, the guy caught smoking pot last year in the bathroom and behind the bleachers and, if he’s to be believed, anyway, in the teacher’s lounge. But more importantly, someone who was vaguely friends with Enjolras – vaguely because as anyone with eyes and ears knew, Grantaire had been in love with Enjolras since elementary school.

And maybe, just maybe, Grantaire would understand the desperate, painful longing that Marius felt to belong somewhere, with a group of friends like Enjolras and Combeferre and Courfeyrac and Jehan and Bossuet and—

Because if he had friends, if he was normal, if he wasn’t a complete loser, maybe then he could talk to Cosette. Maybe then he could ask her out like he had wanted to every day since she had moved here in seventh grade. And sure, maybe she would shoot him down, because why wouldn’t she? But at least he’d have tried something, and hell, at least he’d have friends to fall back on.

But no, not even Grantaire would understand just how pathetic Marius was, and so he ducked his head and said nothing. Grantaire looked at him for a moment more before returning to his doodle with a muttered, “Whatever.”

From the front of the classroom, the teacher cleared her throat and tried to call the class to order, though it went about as well as could be expected. The only person who seemed to be paying any attention was Enjolras, and it took him a record 30 seconds before he raised his hand, inspiring a solid half of the class to groan, loudly.

“Yes, Enjolras?” the teacher asked warily.

Enjolras put his hand down. “I wanted to know if the focus of this course is going to be predominantly on imperialist western societies.”

The teacher sighed. “As I’ve explained to you many times over email this summer, the focus will be on what the College Board has determined is important to include on the AP test.”

“So the barometer for importance is determined by the College Board?” Enjolras asked, incredulous. “Don’t we have a moral responsibility to instead learn about _world_ history, instead of white, western history?”

Without raising his hand, Grantaire called from the back of the class, “Don’t we have a moral responsibility to honestly not give a fuck?”

The class laughed and Enjolras swiveled around in his chair to glare at Grantaire. “Shut up if you don’t have anything to contribute,” he ordered.

“Are you going to come back here and make me if I don’t?” Grantaire shot back.

Enjolras just rolled his eyes and turned back around as the teacher tried once more to regain control of the classroom, but Marius glanced at Grantaire, who was scribbling over the drawing in his textbook so hard that he snapped the point off his pencil. “God fucking damnit,” Grantaire swore, throwing his pencil down and standing to storm out of the classroom.

“Grantaire, get back here!” the teacher called after him.

Marius bit his lip and looked down at his own desk. He could be wrong, but he thought that, before he had scribbled over it, Grantaire had drawn a pretty good sketch of Enjolras.

He was also pretty sure that he wasn’t the only one having a shitty first day of school.

* * *

Marius’s cast was still blank when the last bell rang, which only served as further evidence of how bad his day had been. Marius made his way to the computer lab so that he could quickly type something up for the stupid letter he was supposed to have written for his stupid doctor’s appointment.

Just as he sat down at a computer, his cellphone rang, and Marius glanced down at it, unsurprised to see it was his grandfather’s office phone calling. “I know I’m supposed to pick you up for your appointment, but I’m stuck in a meeting,” Gillenormand said without preamble. “I’m going to send the car to pick you up instead. Also, go ahead and eat without me tonight. I won’t be home until late.”

“Fine,” Marius said listlessly.

“Did you write one of those letters yet?” Gillenormand asked. “Dr. Mabeuf’s going to expect you to have one.”

Marius’s grip on his phone tightened. “Yeah, I know,” he said quickly. “I’ve, uh, I’ve already finished it. I’m in the computer lab printing it out.”

“Good,” Gillenormand said. He hesitated for a moment before asking, “Did you have a good day?”

“It was…” Marius trailed off. “It was great.”

“Good,” Gillenormand said again. “Well, I have to go. I will see you at home later.”

“Bye,” Marius said, but Gillenormand had already hung up.

He set his phone down and stared at the blank document on the computer, at the stupid cursor blinking at him, waiting for him to write lies to encourage himself when all that today had done was remind him how little he believed things would ever get better. He lifted his fingers, set them on the keys, and let his frustration and his anger and his loneliness pour out:

_Dear Marius Pontmercy,_

_Turns out this wasn’t an amazing day after all. This isn’t going to be an amazing week or an amazing year because why would it be. I know, I know, because there’s Enjolras, and all my hope is pinned on Enjolras, who I don’t even know and who doesn’t know me, but maybe if I could just talk to him, maybe – maybe nothing would be different at all._

_I wish everything was different. I wish I was part of something. I wish that anything I said mattered to someone. I mean, would anyone even noticed if I just disappeared tomorrow?_

_Sincerely, your best and most dearest friend,_

_Me_

He finished with a flourish and clicked print without even rereading it. He logged off his computer, stood and turned to grab the paper, almost running smack into Grantaire, who was standing between him and the printer. “So what happened to your arm?” Grantaire asked.

“Oh, um,” Marius stammered, looking down at his arm, wondering if he should make Éponine’s joke about masturbating and deciding against it, “I fell out of a tree, actually.”

“You fell,” Grantaire repeated.

Marius felt himself blush for about the fiftieth time that day. “Well, see, it’s a funny story, though,” he mumbled. “Because for ten minutes after I fell, I just lay there, waiting for someone to come get me, like, you know, any second now, any second…”

He trailed off and Grantaire just looked at him. “Did they?” he asked.

“No,” Marius said. “Um, see, that’s the funny part.”

For a moment, Grantaire kept staring at him, then he laughed. “Well that is just the saddest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.” Marius blinked, and managed a small smile. “No one’s signed your cast.”

Marius glanced down at it. “I know.”

“Well, I’ll sign it.”

“You don’t have to.” The words were out of Marius’s mouth before he could stop them, before he could think through what he was saying.

Luckily, Grantaire didn’t seem insulted. “Do you have a sharpie?” he asked, and Marius silently pulled the marker from his pocket and handed it to Grantaire, who uncapped it with his teeth and bent over Marius’s cast. He considered it for a moment, and in one artistic swoop, wrote a massive, cursive capital-R, big enough to take up an entire side of Marius’s cast. “There,” he said, with satisfaction. “Now we can both pretend that we have friends.”

Marius took the sharpie back from Grantaire, looking down at the R without enthusiasm. “Oh, great. Thanks.”

“Um, is this yours?” Marius looked up to see Grantaire holding up a piece of paper. “I found it in the printer. Dear Marius Pontmercy…I mean, that’s you, so.”

“Oh, um, yeah,” Marius said, rubbing the back of his neck and wondering how the hell he was going to explain this. “I, uh, it’s just an assignment.”

Grantaire nodded slowly, scanning the letter quickly. “Because there’s Enjolras,” he read aloud, looking back up at Marius. “Maybe I was wrong about you trying to hit on him.”

Marius gaped at him, and before he could recover the power of speech, before he could offer any kind of explanation or denial, Grantaire left. And it took Marius a moment to realize that he had taken the letter with him. “Fuck.”

* * *

“A letter to yourself?” Éponine repeated, both eyebrows raised as she stared at Marius. “The fuck does that even mean? Is that, like, some kind of sex thing?”

“Not everything is a sex thing,” Marius snapped, crossing his arms tightly in front of his chest. “It’s…an assignment. For class.”

Éponine looked like she didn’t believe it, but mercifully didn’t press further. “Why are you talking to me about this?”

“I didn’t know who else to talk to,” Marius said defensively. “You’re my only—” He caught himself just in time. “My only _family_ friend. And I don’t know what to do, ok? He took the letter from me like three days ago and then he hasn’t been at school since!”

Éponine took a slow drag off her cigarette and nodded. “That does not bode well for you,” she said conversationally.

Marius groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What’s he going to do?” he asked desperately. “Do you think he’s going to show the letter to people?”

“He’s going to ruin your life with it for sure,” Éponine said confidently, finishing her cigarette and flicking the butt into the grass. “I mean, I would.”

Well, that was hardly reassuring. But before Marius could press her further, Éponine’s eyes widened and she disappeared. Marius spun around to find Principal Javert staring at him, his expression unreadable. “Marius Pontmercy?” he asked. “I need you to come with me.”

* * *

The trip to Javert’s office took just enough time for Marius to run through every single thing that could possibly happen, every single punishment he could possibly be dealt, but nothing could have prepared him for Javert to open his office door and reveal Enjolras, Combeferre and Courfeyrac all sitting inside, along with a tall, stern-looking man impatiently tapping his foot. “Marius, this is Grantaire’s father,” Javert said quietly. “And of course, you know Enjolras, Combeferre and Courfeyrac.”

Courfeyrac nodded at Marius but neither Enjolras nor Combeferre looked up at him. Combeferre’s arm was around Enjolras’s shoulders, and Enjolras was staring down at a piece of paper that looked all too familiar. “I’ll let you speak in private,” Javert said, his hand on Marius’s shoulder.

“That won’t be necessary,” Grantaire’s dad said, sounding almost bored as he looked at Marius and told him, “My son killed himself.”

Enjolras let out what sounded almost like a sob, and Combeferre shot Grantaire’s dad a nasty look. Javert cleared his throat. “Perhaps it would be better—” he started, but Grantaire’s dad cut him off.

“It would be better if we spoke outside,” he said firmly. “I have nothing more to say to the boys that my son fell in with.” Marius recoiled at the tone of his voice, the disapproval bordering on disgust. “My son was a disappointment and the end of his life made no difference in that.”

Enjolras’s face went white, and he made as if to stand, his hands balled into fists, Combeferre’s arm the only thing holding back. “Let’s step outside,” Javert said firmly, his tone allowing no room for argument, and Grantaire’s father followed him out, the door closing behind him with a snap.

Marius looked at Enjolras, his mouth dry, and he glanced over at Courfeyrac. “I don’t…I don’t understand.”

Courfeyrac looked at Enjolras and Combeferre. “Enjolras,” he said quietly, and wordlessly, Enjolras held out the paper in his hands. “Grantaire wanted you to have this,” Courfeyrac told Marius.

“We didn’t know that you were friends with him,” Combeferre said quietly. “But then we saw – Dear Marius Pontmercy.”

Marius looked down at the paper, which was exactly what he thought it was, and his mind went blank. “Friends?” he repeated, latching on to the only word that seemed to make sense from everything that had just happened.

“We figured we knew all of Grantaire’s friends, since, like, we’ve all been friends forever,” Courfeyrac said. “But then we saw this letter, and it seemed to pretty clearly suggest that you and Grantaire were, or at least, that Grantaire thought of you as…” He trailed off and shook his head. “I mean, it’s right there, the letter’s addressed to you. Dear Marius Pontmercy. He wrote it to you.”

“You think that Grantaire wrote this to me?” he asked, the pieces slowly beginning to click into place. “I’m, I’m sorry, but—”

“It’s all they found with him,” Enjolras said quietly, speaking for the first time and looking up at Marius with wet, red eyes. “He had it folded up in his pocket. He was—” His voice broke and Combeferre’s arm around his shoulder tightened. “He was trying to explain why…why…” He took a deep, shuddering breath, his tone turning desperate. “I wish everything was different, I wish I was a part of something, I wish—”

Marius couldn’t let this go on, couldn’t let them keep believing this mistake. “Ok, but this is not, um. I’m sorry, but Grantaire didn’t write this.”

Enjolras’s eyes flashed up to his. “What does that mean?” he demanded. “He didn’t write it? Why would you say that? This is…this is all we have.”

Marius shook his head, unable to vocalize any plausible explanation, and he held the letter out to Enjolras. “You should take it, please,” he said, an edge of desperation in his voice, but before he could say anything else, Enjolras gripped Combeferre’s arm.

“Look at his cast,” he said quietly, his face tightening with pain and loss.

Marius looked down at his cast, at the giant, cursive R he had forgotten was there, and his heart dropped, Grantaire’s words _Now we can both pretend that we have friends_ echoing in his head.

What explanation could he possibly offer now?

He was saved only by Javert opening the door to his office again and stepping inside. “Gentlemen,” he started, his voice uncharacteristically soft, “I know that this is impossibly difficult for you, and I wanted to let you know that we’ve called in grief counselors and they’re on their way. I want to give you the option of returning to class, or else we can call your parents and you can go home for the rest of the day.”

“I’m staying,” Enjolras said instantly.

Javert looked concerned, but nonetheless nodded and glanced from Combeferre to Courfeyrac, who shrugged and said tiredly, “If he’s staying, we’re staying, though I doubt we’ll be doing much learning today.”

“I doubt anyone will be,” Javert said quietly. “We’re holding everyone in their first period class for the moment, and we’ll send the grief counselors to the senior classes first. You are, after all, the ones who would have known him best.”

Enjolras nodded, once, and stood a little unsteadily, letting Combeferre take his elbow and steer him towards the door. He paused when he passed Marius and turned to look at him. “I want to talk to you more,” he said quietly. “Later. At some point. Please.”

And there was nothing Marius could do but nod.

After Combeferre, Courfeyrac and Enjolras all filed out, Javert turned to Marius. “And what about you, Mr. Pontmercy? Do you want to go back to class, or do you want to go home?”

“Back to class, I guess,” Marius said hollowly, though something in his chest clenched painfully when he realized that there would be an empty seat next to him.

Javert nodded slowly, his expression softening, and he again placed his hand heavily on Marius’s shoulder. “I am so sorry for the loss of your friend,” he said.

“He wasn’t—” Marius started, but before he could finish, Javert had been called away, leaving Marius standing there alone as always. “He wasn’t my friend.”


End file.
